Whiskey Lullaby
by VampsOnCrack
Summary: An angsty stroy based on Whiskey Lullaby by Brad Paisley and Alison Krauss. The story of John and Jennifer, and how they just kept missing each other. WARNING: Angst, Major character death
A/N: The inspiration for this fic comes from the song Whiskey Lullaby by Bad Paisley and Alison Krauss, although I obviously changed quite a few things. I just love the song and this came to mind while I was listening to it waiting for my European Rock class. I suggest you listen to it on repeat whilst reading. Enjoy.

Warning: major character death, lots of angst, talk of depression, suicide, and one swear word.

 _ **WHISKEY LULLABY**_

Atlantis was in mourning. No one has spoken unless necessary all day, only "Pass the salt" and "Do you have the mission report I wanted?" and other such things passed people's lips. An entire city plunged into silence because of a single short announcement made by Mr. Woolsey that morning:

"Earlier this morning there was a…an incident. It gives me no pleasure to announce that Dr. Jennifer Keller has sadly passed away. Further information will be given at a later time. Thank you."

The announcement barely lasted a minute, but in those short few seconds you could hear the sadness and grief weighing his voice down. People around the city stopped short whatever they were doing when they heard the words he uttered. Some burst into tears, falling into friend's arms, some shouted out in disbelief, gesticulating wildly into the air refusing to acknowledge what they'd heard. The most remarkable reaction however was that of Atlantis' flagship team. They sat together at their usual table – the one they usually shared with Jennifer whenever she was free, with their heads bent. They were already aware of what had happened, but that didn't make them any less affected. Woolsey's announcement just made everything all the more real for them.

Sheppard had been the one to find her body, having gone looking for her at the request of the medical staff after multiple failed attempts to contact her. He opened her door expecting to find her sleeping in bed, with her communicator far from reach, which seemed to be the case upon first glance. It was only as he approached to wake her up that he noticed the vomit on the floor and the gray waxy quality of her skin. He hurried over to her bedside avoiding the vomit, and tried waking her up by calling her name and shaking her, but it was in vain. The movement dislodged something gripped in her hand and as it fell to the floor his heart leapt into his throat and his breathing stopped completely for a few seconds. The bottle of pills rolled around on the floor, and he could hear that there were maybe only one or two left in there. He jumped into Soldier Mode and pressed his communicator into life, barking orders into it and checking for a pulse, a breath, anything. But it was too late, her body was cold, still and lifeless, she'd obviously been dead for a few hours already. He could hear the door open and the rush of people entering and running around. He got pushed out of the way to make way for the medics and even stepped in the vomit as he stumbled back but he didn't notice. His eyes were fixed on her face, eyes and mouth open, showing no emotions and perilously gray. He knew then that he'd never be able to rid his mind of the image before him. The image of her lying there would be forever seared into the inside of his eyelids, ready to haunt him every time he closed his eyes.

Two days later John found himself outside the door to Keller's room. He had been on a run around the city, trying to think of anything other than her soulless, lifeless face staring back at him. He had been running nonstop for a whole 2 hours and somehow had ended up at her room. He knew that no one had had the heart to dare pack up her things, as it would be admitting that she was actually gone. Without thinking he waved the door open and stepped into the dark room. He didn't bother turning the lights on, as the moonlight lit up the room enough for him to walk around without hitting anything. The vomit had been cleared up, but other than that the room was untouched. He walked around the room, touching random things lightly as he passed. The back of her desk chair, the keys on her laptop, the lamp on her bedside table. It made him feel closer to her somehow.

He sat down on her bed, in the exact spot where she lay when she took her final few breaths. He stroked the bed sheets lightly with hand, grazing up to the edge of the pillow. He flinched when he felt something that was harder than a pillowcase. Sliding underneath the pillow he pulled out a photograph. After inspection he realised it was a picture of the two of them, him and Jennifer, smiling widely at the camera. He smiled to himself as he remembered the day that the picture was taken. Atlantis had landed on Earth a couple of weeks earlier, and it's inhabitants had finished up all their mandatory meetings and debriefings and were cluttering up the hallways in Cheyenne Mountain, so Stargate Command had put them all on imposed downtime. It just so happened that his birthday was coming around, so he had convinced the whole team to drive two hours away to go to a carnival. Jennifer had been dating Rodney at the time so it had made sense to invite her also. Plus he considered Jennifer as much a part of his team as the rest of them. They'd had the most fun that John could remember having in what seemed like a lifetime. They went on the rollercoasters, eaten way too many hot dogs, and won a lot of prizes on the shooting games. As evening rolled around, John pulled the group towards the Ferris wheel excitedly. Rodney had taken one look at the large wheel and immediately started ranting about how unsafe the contraption was, and how he would never ever get on one. Teyla had complained of the hot dogs disagreeing with her, and she didn't want to upset her stomach further by going on the ride. Ronan had just looked at the Wheel in confusion and muttered "looks stupid". John was so disappointed, and it must have shown on his face because Jennifer took pity on him and agreed to go with him for a ride. He had giddily taken her hand and pulled her towards the line they had to wait in. He was so excited that he didn't even notice Jennifer's wary look at the large wheel. It wasn't until their feet were no longer touching the ground that he looked over to her and saw her panicked face. He'd asked her what was wrong and she'd admitted that she had a fear of heights. John had hugged her tightly and thanked her for coming with him anyway. Then, to take her mind off it, he pulled out the disposable camera that he'd been using on and off all day and surprised her by putting his arm around her shoulder and snapping the picture he was currently staring at. After he'd got the pictures developed, Jennifer had insisted on having a copy. He had the same picture framed on his bedside in his quarters.

He smiled sadly to himself. He'd wanted to kiss her so badly at that moment and almost had, but he'd pulled himself together at the last second. He'd loved her for as long as he'd known her, but had never acted on it and she'd slipped right past him and into the arms of his best friend. He'd been guiltily happy when they'd called it quits a few months afterwards, because it meant that she was free, but yet again he couldn't work up the courage to tell her. And all of a sudden it was too late, and she was gone.

He flipped the photograph around in his hands, and noticed a black scribble on the back. He stopped dead when he realised that it was writing. The first line was just a reminder of when and where the photo was taken: _Me and John, John's 38_ _th_ _birthday, on a Ferris wheel._ Underneath that, obviously written in a different pen at a different time, there was a small paragraph:

 _Dear John,_

 _I hope you'll be the one to find this. If it's not you, then please don't carry on reading._

 _I'm sorry, but I just can't do it anymore. I can't take living anymore, knowing how futile everything is. Nothing lasts, not even love. I thought I loved Rodney, but I think in the end he was just…convenient. I never wanted to hurt him, but that's all I seemed to do. Eventually he left because he knew my heart belonged to someone else._

 _I've always loved you John, just know that. Always._

 _Love Jennifer._

He stared at the note blankly for what seemed like an eternity. He hadn't realised that he'd stopped breathing until his lungs hurt and he started gasping loudly to get his breath back. He could feel his heart breaking into a million little pieces, and he clutched at his chest as he slid off the edge of the bed and sank onto the floor with a thud. Tears flooded down his face and stained his t-shirt. He let his head fall into his hands and then leant his forehead against his knees. He stayed that way until he fell asleep in that position, clutching the cherished photograph tightly in his hand.

The funeral took place on a Sunday morning. It was on Earth, unfortunately. John knew that Jennifer would rather have been buried on the athosian mainland, but as he had no say in the matter he found himself in his dress blues, surrounded by his team and a lot of people he didn't know, in a cemetery in Colorado watching her coffin being dropped into the ground.

He had to admit; whoever had paid for her burial couldn't have picked a prettier spot. It was underneath a willow tree in a large cemetery. John couldn't bring himself to care however. What did it matter how pretty it was, if she wasn't alive to see it?

He felt a weight on his shoulder and looked over to see Teyla leaning on him, crying her eyes out onto his uniform. She had been crying a lot ever since Jennifer had died, and John had been her rock.

He glanced over to the rest of the team to see Rodney crying silently into a tissue, and even Ronan had glassy eyes and a single tear falling down his cheek, although he remained composed and stoic. John for his part had a face of stone, emotionless and cold. He wanted to cry, to weep for the loss of one of his closest friends, but no tears would come. He didn't feel sad, he just felt empty. He had cried all his tears the night he had found the photograph, but it hadn't made him feel any better. In fact it made him feel worse. He was void of all emotions, save for regret and pure sadness. The kind of sadness that tears didn't fix.

He put his arm around Teyla's shoulder in comfort. She was still the closest thing he had to a sister, and he felt a duty to make sure she was cared for. He rubbed her back consolingly as she bawled into his shoulder. Ronan leant over to catch Teyla's hand in his own, squeezing it lightly. Rodney claps his hand onto Ronan's shoulder, and together they all basked in their grief.

He couldn't stop staring at her gravestone. It was fairly simple, a plain gray slab with not much written on it.

 _Doctor Jennifer Marie Keller_

 _18_ _th_ _October 1974 – 10_ _th_ _April 2010_

 _A kind, loving person that left us too soon_

He felt that it wasn't enough. Never enough for her. It didn't express what a beautiful, generous, caring, powerful woman she was. She deserved so much more than a small slab of stone.

The funeral ended and people started to trickle away towards their cars to make their way to the wake, hosted by Jennifer's father. He stayed at her side, sat silently cross-legged next to her final resting spot, until the sun started to set and someone came out to drag him away.

Evan Lorne, Atlantis' second-in-command, was in a difficult position. It had been almost six months since Jennifer's suicide, and his commanding officer, Colonel John Sheppard, still wasn't dealing with it. He only ever spoke when spoken to or to give direct orders and was even more reserved and private than he used to be. He didn't spend any time with his team anymore despite the fact that they were as close as family. Their team nights had fizzled out of existence after Sheppard stopped turning up, favoring wallowing in his bedroom or on the east pier instead. Each member of the group had attempted on multiple occasions to coax him into spending some time with them, but it only succeeded in making him more annoyed for the rest of the day.

Evan also knew that the colonel hardly slept anymore. On more than one occasion when he had been saddled with the night shift he had caught the man in his office, staring into nothingness, or just walking the corridors in the middle of the night alone with his thoughts. He never seemed to eat either. He may have seen the colonel munching on one of Rodney's beloved power bars every once in a while, but it was obvious that the man was wasting away. He'd caught a glimpse of the man changing once during a mission, and he was shocked that he could see all of the man's ribs and vertebrae. His arms were much skinnier than they used to be, and his collar bones were much too prominent to be healthy. His friend was slowly deteriorating in front of his eyes, and Evan didn't know what to do to help.

Evan had tried to talk to him, to let the man know that he could talk to him. Evan firmly believed in talking about one's problems in order to solve them. A problem shared is a problem halved as his mother always said. But John had brushed him off with a grunt saying he was fine and to leave him alone.

It wasn't until John turned up for duty reeking of whiskey looking more than a little buzzed that Lorne had to intervene. He'd known for some time that John has resorted to drinking his pain away at nights in order to get a few hours of sleep, but he hadn't wanted to say anything as long as it didn't impede on his work. Unfortunately, it seemed that now there was no other option than to confront the colonel. It was his last resort before getting Stargate Command involved, which he really didn't want to do out of respect for his commanding officer.

He waited for the end of the colonel's shift since he seemed to be able to do his job somewhat reasonably. He didn't want to make a scene in public, even if people already knew about the drinking just from the smell of him. As soon as he officially clocked out for the night the major approached his commander and said, in a soft but firm voice "follow me". He had expected John to resist, so he was surprised when the man just nodded silently. They walked in tension-filled silence to Lorne's room, which was closest to where they were. It wasn't until Evan closed the door behind them that Sheppard spoke a word.

"Is there a problem, major?" He asked, his voice raspy from lack of use.

"Permission to speak freely sir?" Evan asked out of politeness more than anything. He would say what needed to be said regardless of the colonel's response. However, after a few moments hesitation Sheppard shook his head in agreement.

"This has got to stop sir. You can't be turning up to work like this. You need to start eating more, and taking sleeping pills if you need to. You're slowly killing yourself and I'm not going to stand by and watch you do it! You have people willing to help you, to listen to you if you need it. Hell, there's even a psychiatrist on base whose sole purpose is to listen to our issues and I checked with her, you've been to see her once in the past six months and although she didn't say it, I could tell from her expression that you didn't say jack!" He hadn't realised he was shouting until he stopped for breath. Sheppard was looking at him blankly, like he expected the outburst but didn't really care about it. The look in his eyes just served to get Evan more fired up, and he stepped forward, getting into the colonel's personal space.

"I understand that it's hard for you, it's hard for all of us. But it's like you're not even trying to deal with it!"

"I can't!" John shouted back at him, effectively shutting the major up. "Every time I try to sleep or relax or just think positive for more than half a millisecond, all I can think of is her face, lying in that bed, her eyes looking straight at me! She is in my mind twenty four hours a day, seven days a week, as a constant reminder that she'd _never_ coming back!"

Evan was so astounded at the outburst he couldn't find his voice for a long moment. Unfortunately Sheppard took his silence the wrong way, and stormed off out of the room. Lorne caught himself and hurried after him.

"Wait, come back sir!" He shouted down the corridor at the retreating figure, getting him a few concerned looks from the passers-by. "Sir! John!"

Sheppard didn't even glance back; he just turned the corner and disappeared from sight.

John had actively avoided Lorne for the next two weeks. He never stayed in the same room with the man for more than a couple of seconds, but in those few seconds Evan knew everything he needed to know. The colonel was getting even skinnier, if that was possible, and he'd stopped shaving altogether. He could smell the alcohol seeping from his commanding officer whenever he passed by him. He was growing more and more worried, and had finally approached Woolsey about it. The Atlantis commander had decided that enough was enough, and ordered Lorne to go fetch the colonel so that they could have a talk about getting him some down time to try to sort himself out. If he refused, Woolsey would inform General Landry of the situation as a last resort. Lorne hurried to Sheppard's quarters, comforted in the fact that one way or another the man would be getting some help. He arrived outside John's door and rang the doorbell. At first there was no answer, which didn't really surprise Evan. He knew that John had come to hate the company of fellow humans and therefore ignored people until they went away or contacted him via his communicator if it was an emergency. He rang again, and waited an acceptable amount of time before giving up and overriding the door controls in the same way as he'd seen McKay do many a time. The scientist had never taught him how to do it per se, but it wasn't that hard to figure out. Rodney really underestimated the intelligence of the military personnel sometimes.

The first thing he noticed upon entering Sheppard's room was the mess: it looked like a hurricane had blown through and had left devastation in its wake. The bed was turned over, what seemed to be all of Sheppard's possessions were scattered around the room, shattered glass from picture frames littered the floor. There were spots of blood on some of the fragments of glass, and a few on the ground forming a trail leading to the bathroom. Evan tiptoed around the shards and cautiously pushed open the bathroom door, which stood slightly ajar, all the while calling out the colonel's name.

The sight that met him caused him to retch. John was in the shower stall, fully dressed, hanging with his boot clad feet a good four inches from the floor by a rope that was wrapped tightly around his neck. His face was puffy and white; his lips were a deathly shade of light blue. His neck was too long to be natural, and his eyes were wide open, his pupils blown wide.

Evan couldn't stop the bile from rising in his throat, and he ran over to the toilet in the corner and sank to his knees to empty his stomach into it. Once he was finished, he wiped his mouth and raised a shaking hand to his communicator to call for help. He could hardly get the words out, and finally managed to push out the words "medics" "Sheppard's room" and "now". He forced himself up off his knees and hastened over to John. He grabbed the pocket knife that he always carried on him and circled his arm around his fellow soldier, pushing him upwards and taking his weight. With his other hand he hacked at the rope holding him there until it cracked and he was suddenly burdened with the full weight of the man, making him almost lose balance. He had just managed to lower the colonel to the ground when the medics arrived, taking over immediately.

The major looked around helplessly, barely holding back a full blown panic attack. He tried to distract himself by noticing small things around the room, like what kind of aftershave was on the counter, or how many tiles there were on the ceiling. On his third scan of the monochrome room a flash of color caught his eye. On the floor of the shower, which must have been just at John's feet, there was a picture. He bent over to pick it up and examined it.

It was a picture he'd seen before in Sheppard's quarters as well as Jennifer's on the few occasions that he'd been in there. He remembered John telling him about that day, he was so happy during his recounting of the events, and in the picture they looked practically gleeful. He studied the picture, wondering when everything had turned to shit.

He flipped over the photograph and scanned the page full of writing. He read through Jennifer's note, feeling slightly guilty about invading her privacy, but pushed through it anyway. At the bottom of the photograph, in a messy scrawl that he recognized as colonel Sheppard's, there was a single sentence added.

 _I'll love her until I die._

Lorne broke down in the shower stall. He slid to the floor and bawled his eyes out; ignoring the looks he was getting from the many people in the room. When one of the medics left the patient to check on the major, he barely noticed the concerned hand on his arm. He cried until he tired himself out, and was brought up to the infirmary by a medic to sleep off the grief for his two lost friends.

John's funeral was also on a Sunday. Sunday seemed to be the Dark Day for the people of Pegasus. Evan had made a fuss at the SGC and had managed to convince the Air Force and Sheppard's family to bury him in the same cemetery as Jennifer, underneath the same willow tree, right next to her. He considered that the couple deserved to be together finally.

A lot more people turned up for the funeral than he imagined. He had no idea that Sheppard had touched so many lives, but the evidence spoke for itself. Everyone expressed their condolences and was aghast to find out how he died, but then again they hadn't been around for the last six months of his life. After the initial shock had left Evan's system, he couldn't say that it was unexpected.

He shook hands and made small talk for a while, and as the rest of the crowd slowly departed, he took his time examining the burial plot. Other than the dirt covering John's grave being newer than Jennifer's, the two graves were pretty similar. John's gravestone was the same size and made from the same type of stone as Jennifer's. On Sheppard's gravestone was written:

 _Lt. Col. John Sheppard_

 _14th June 1970 – 12th November 2010_

 _A fallen soldier, who died from a broken heart._

 _May they find each other on the other side._

Hours after the funeral, only four people remained at the pair's gravesides: Ronan, Rodney, Teyla and Evan. Ronan was holding Teyla's hand once again, but this time Rodney was on her other side, with his arm around her. Evan leant ever so slightly against Rodney, their shoulders touching. He needed human contact to keep him grounded, no matter whom from.

They stood together in silence, until Ronan broke it, as subtly as always.

"So they were in love with each other, huh?"

The group didn't react, save for Evan who simply answered "Yup."

"And they never told each other" Ronan continued.

"Nope" Rodney supplied.

After a few more seconds of silence, Ronan tactfully said: "Well, that was dumb"

Evan hummed in approval, and silence took over them again. Slowly, they turned as a whole and walked away from the graves. As they left, Evan could hear birds in the distance singing. Their song sounded to Evan like a lullaby. A sad, whiskey lullaby for the sleeping couple, united at last.

 _FIN_

A/N 2: Oh my God, I wrote basically all of this in one night, and now it's 3:30 am and I'm not tired anymore and I'm so happy with myself because I've had this in my head for the past two months and I've finally written it!


End file.
